


Fireworks

by chelseagirl



Series: Alias Investigations [8]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseagirl/pseuds/chelseagirl
Summary: Two Fourth of Julys, Kyle Murtry, and fireworks.  Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry in Devil's Hole and afterwards.





	Fireworks

_Devil’s Hole, Wyoming_

“No, Kyle, I don’t think it would be a good idea. Not so soon after such a big job.” Hannibal Heyes had a determined look on his face, and when he got like that, not even Kid Curry could change his mind. Well, not usually.

Kyle Murtry sighed. Sure he liked his life on the outlaw trail, and sure he was happy to have fallen in with the Devil’s Hole Gang, but one of the things he’d always loved, back in his hometown, were the Fourth of July celebrations.

Picnics, lemonade and beer, watermelon and pie, games for the children. Contests of skill like throwing horseshoes or strength tests. Three-legged races and relays. Lots of music from the local brass band. But the thing Kyle loved most of all was the fireworks.

He sometimes thought it was his love of fireworks that had attracted him to the idea of working with dynamite, in the first place. How much scarier could it be? Not much, he thought, as he remembered his childhood playmate Lizzie, who’d singed her eyebrows off in one of their Fourth of July escapades. They’d grown back just fine, as he recalled. He hadn’t thought about Lizzie, or her brother Freddy, in a long while, but he smiled now, thinking about some of their antics.

“Some town far away from the Hole, maybe? There have to be places we still ain’t pulled any jobs.” Kyle wasn’t quite ready to give up yet.

Kid Curry gave him a sympathetic look, which suggested that he missed the picnics and the music, too. But, as usual, he backed up Heyes. “It’s hard sometimes, Kyle, thinkin’ about the things we’ve had to give up. But we all made choices that got us here, and Heyes is right. It’s not the time nor the place for it.”

“Maybe next year, Kyle, if things have cooled off a little,” Heyes added, his brown eyes softening a bit. “We can think about some more out of the way places we’ve never been. There are some little towns, up Montana way, maybe.”

Kyle nodded, resignedly, and walked over to where Wheat Carlson was waiting for him.

“Told ya they’d say no,” Wheat said. “Now, if I was in charge . . .” But then a crafty look came into his eyes. “On the other hand, I do have an idea.”

And so on July 4th of that year, the Devil’s Hole Gang was treated to a fireworks display like the world had never seen before, nor would ever want to see again. Most of it was plain old dynamite, attached to a wooden structure so that it would blow sky-high and come down in flames, but there were a few odd rockets and Catherine-wheels which various gang members had managed to purchase in the various towns they’d passed through, for supplies or for rest and relaxation. Never purloined, of course – no need to hurt the small shopkeepers who never did anyone any harm.

Heyes and Curry sat side-by-side on the front porch of the leaders’ cabin.

“That’s quite the display that Kyle’s put on, don’t you think, Kid?”

“You sure this won’t lead any stray lawmen our way?”

“Nah. Lawmen are all home with their families today. It’s like Christmas, only better weather.”

“Think we’ll ever have families, Heyes?” There was an unreadable expression in the Kid’s blue eyes. “Maybe take ‘em to a real Fourth of July celebration?”

Heyes thought for a moment. “Prob’ly not, Kid. Don’t see how it could happen, with the way things are.” He winked. “Anyway, we wouldn’t want to disappoint all those young ladies in the saloons, by taking Kid Curry off the market.”

“Or Hannibal Heyes – well, when he can be bothered to step away from the poker table, that is.”

“Don’t wanna give you too much competition, Kid.”

“Think there’s enough ladies, and cards, to go around,” said Curry.

But then there was another beautiful big explosion, and for a moment, they were silent.

  


_Blue Sky, Montana_

_Some years later_

Two small boys and an even smaller girl ran up to their father, in an even greater state of excitement than the one in which they usually spent their lives.

“Daddy!” said Thad, the oldest and the leader, as always. “Is it true Uncle Kyle is doing the fireworks again this year? Sarah was too little to stay up for ‘em last year, and we’re hoping he is, because his are the BEST!”

“Uncle Kyle?” Kid Curry turned to his wife. “Did he get a promotion or something?”

“Well, you know how much the children all like him. It seemed disrespectful to have them call him just plain Kyle, but I think we’ve progressed beyond Mister Murtry by now.” Sandy Curry turned to her eldest son, and reassured him. “Of course it’ll be Uncle Kyle. Do you think Blue Sky would trust its explosives to anyone else?”

“I haven’t heard trust and Kyle and explosives in the same sentence ever before,” the Kid muttered to himself.

“That was two sentences, dearest,” said his wife, mildly. “Would you mind grabbing that quilt and the other basket? We’d better get going if we’re going to get a good spot.” She picked up a substantial wicker basket, herself.

When they arrived at the town square, they settled in next to the Heyes family, who’d claimed extra territory for them. The two wives sat together, catching up on the news of the day, while the three little Currys, and even smaller Arabella Heyes, ran off to join some of their friends, and Francesca Bird, the Heyes’ ward, followed along to keep an eye on them.

Heyes and the Kid just nodded at each other, and excused themselves. They headed off to the refreshment tent, where they availed themselves of a beverage that was not lemonade, and then wandered off to see how the man of the hour was doing.

To their great surprise, Kyle had company.

“Wheat? What’re you doin’ here?” asked Curry.

“Don’t tell us you, too, have left your sorry life of crime behind.” Heyes had a twinkle in his eye.

“Nothin’ of the sort,” blustered Wheat. “I’m still as dishonest as the day is long. But I couldn’t let Kyle have all the fun, runnin’ this fireworks display on his own year after year, without wantin’ to have a chance to play along. ‘Specially when he’s got access to all kinds of fireworks, legitimate-like and stuff. So I come fer a visit.” He puffed up a little. “Told the fellers I was gonna spend a week with a lady friend, saloon gal that was right sweet on me.”

“Highly believable story,” said Heyes, with mock sincerity, and Curry nodded to show his pretended agreement.

“I thunk it up all on my own,” said Wheat, proudly.

“Will y’all stop fussin’ and hand me that rocket?” asked Kyle.

Kid Curry obligingly did so, and the two men took their leave, heading back towards the spot their families had staked out.

“Remember Kyle’s first fireworks show?” asked Heyes. “Back at Devil’s Hole?”

“Could hardly forget it, Heyes. Nearly burned our cabin down, and took us the rest of the summer to repair all the damage to the bunkhouse, and the storage barn, and . . .”

Just then, Sarah and Joshua Curry came racing past, nearly running right into their father. The men smiled at each other.

“Remember what I asked you that day, Heyes?”

“Whether we’d ever have families. Whether we’d ever have a regular-type Fourth of July.”

“And you were pretty definite that the answer was ‘No’.”

Heyes smiled at his partner and shook his head. “All the odds and all my experience said I was right. Who’d ever have thought this day would come? When this kind of thing is just normal for us?”

And the two men laughed, as they walked towards their wives, who were sitting side by side on the pretty quilts Sandy had made, unpacking the picnic baskets full of Sandy’s good cooking and baking. (Heyes’ wife Ella was still hopelessly undomestic, of course, because this is a story with a happy ending, but it’s not a fairytale.)

“In other words, you were wrong, Heyes.”

“I’ll admit to it just this once, Kid. Just this once.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another challenge story. Originally, I was just going to write about Kyle's fireworks at Devil's Hole, but then the second half wanted to be written.
> 
> Thanks to Nebraska Wildfire and Grace Williams for beta.
> 
> My great-aunt Elizabeth actually did singe off her eyebrows in a fireworks accident as a child. Of course, she can't possibly be Kyle's childhood playmate Lizzie, because a) she wasn't born until 1893, b) she grew up in New York City which Kyle quite obviously did not, and c) the best way to tease her, when we were little, was to call her Aunt Lizzie, upon which she would reply "don't you Lizzie me!" But like her fictional equivalent, her eyebrows grew back.
> 
> This is the second ASJ Fourth of July story I've written; the first is "Alias Smith and Burne-Jones," which is not a part of any series.


End file.
